NATURE
The mysterious hornbill

Lt-Gen Baljit Singh (retd) on the Narcondam hornbill, which is found
exclusively on this island of the Andamans 

Geographic isolation of life forms always triggers the development of species unique to that particular area, governed by an evolutionary phenomena called endemism. And the most dramatic evidence of endemism is, almost always, best demonstrated by the life found on an oceanic island that by geological definition has no physical link with any landmass, whatsoever.

Now in the Andaman Islands archipelago, the Narcondam Island rises abruptly from the ocean to about 780 m above the sea level lying some 125 km east of North Andaman and 300 km west of the Myanmar mainland. Its total area is less than 600 hectares and its sole human inhabitants are a small Indian police picket installed recently close to the only freshwater spring on the southern tip of the island; and the only camping site as well.

Hot and humid climate, heavy rainfall and fertile volcanic ash have combined to create a rich deciduous and evergreen forest cover over most of this island. Among its bird life, the Narcondam hornbill is ubiquitous, though, occasionally, a few white-bellied sea eagles, the green and pied imperial pigeons can be encountered at times.

While the latter are strong fliers and, therefore, capable of to-and-fro habitation on the other islands in the region also, but the Narcondam hornbill is strictly the exclusive local resident. And that makes this bird one among the most fascinating mysteries and marvels of evolution to unravel.

Of course, there are nine other species of the hornbill on the Indian sub-continental land mass but the Narcondam bird is endemic to that far-off island alone. How, when and why it evolved out there is the crux of the boundlessness of nature’s secrets.

The bird is simply beautiful to behold and one cannot have enough of it. But the island is not connected by any commercial ferry or shipping lines nor are there any airstrips or helipad on the island. This makes the journey to see this hornbill a once-in-a-life-time endeavour fit for the bravehearts alone.

The first man to place this bird on the map of Indian ornithology was Allan Octavian Hume when in 1873 he brought back five specimens to the mainland. Although Hume was a serving officer of the Indian Civil Service (ICS) and at that time the Secretary, Department of Revenue, Agriculture and Commerce, Government of India, but his passion lay in the pursuit of natural history. So he utilised his two-month annual leave to visit the Andaman and Nicobar archipaelago and returned with 500 specimens, representing 198 species of birds inhabiting the islands of the Bay of Bengal. And at a personal expense of more than `A31,000 to Hume, a large sum indeed for those times.

All hornbills are somewhat gawky, possibly because of their long tails, exceptionally large bills — a prominent casque atop the upper mandible and in a few sub-species even a gular pouch like the goitre-growth among humans. But then the bodily colour combinations come into play that imparts to the Narcondam bird a sublime look.

Take for instance, the male’s eye region where the iris is a brilliant orange-red, separated from the black pupil by a pale yellow circle and the whole eye enclosed by the rich sky-blue orbital skin. The jet-black body, glossed with green, is offset by the white of the tail and the luxuriant rufous of the neck, breast and the crown.

And the loud crimson of the bill is softened by the pale-blue of the gular pouch. Should the bird be perched above you, the mustard yellow pads of its black feet will not go unnoticed. What an exquisite creation, indeed.

The female makes a delicate design statement with a band in blue-wash across the white tail and her iris, a seductive olive-brown.

From the time of Hume’s visit in 1873, their population has remained stable between 200 and 300 birds. But, of late, there is confirmed evidence that the bird is being hunted for food by the police picket. According to Dr Vibhu Prakash, who heads the vulture revival project, we ought to create a second home for the Narcondam hornbill on one of the several uninhabited islands in the Andamans archipaelago.

Unlike most other wildlife conservation imperatives facing us, the second home for this hornbill will neither lead to any dislocation of settled human habitations nor inflict the loss of livelihood on anyone, nor impose any budgetary demands on the government of the 325 islands of the Andaman group, only 21 are inhabited.

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